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MORE THAN EXES (Chasing The Dream #0.5)

He wants to win. She wants to win him back.

Keyboardist Kyle Cross may look like a bad boy with his tattoos and piercings, but he’s really the good guy who’s always stuck fixing his band’s problems and never gets the girl. His band is competing in a Battle of the Bands, but when their bassist doesn't show, Kyle must track her down with the help of the person he least expects: his ex-girlfriend Alexis Monroe.

Kyle hasn’t seen Alexis since she dumped him in high school, and she’s dropped her preppy image for fiery red hair and a bold new attitude to match. With only hours before his band goes on stage, Kyle has to be a little bad if he wants to win both the Battle and the girl he's never gotten over. But when their old problems resurface, the good guy might just get his heart broken all over again.

A stand-alone novella that launches the Chasing The Dream series!Named as the 2014 Read of the Year by New Adult Book Reviews!

If there was one thing I’d learned,
it was that good guys never got the girl. Even if the good guy was covered in
tattoos and piercings and wore an old Joy Division shirt with the sleeves cut
off. Nope, the ladies would still recognize him (or in this case, me) for what
he was and ditch him for the guy who practically screamed, I’ll break your heart. Usually that guy was my brother, Jared.

My Saturday night had just begun, and
I’d already had the lesson drilled into my head. We’d unloaded all our gear and
stashed it backstage but had hours to spare before we were scheduled to go on.
It seemed pointless to arrive at the club so early, but the organizers of the
UCLA vs. USC Battle of the Bands had told us to show up at 6:30 PM, and Jared
would sooner slit his wrists than be late.

With so much downtime before our
10:30 PM set, I headed for the bar to grab us a couple of beers. On the Rocks
was a small club in Hollywood that held a few hundred people. The place was almost
empty now, but we were the last band to perform and I figured it would fill up
by then. The few who’d arrived early stood around in the big, dark room either at
the bar along the back wall or in front of the small stage where the first band
was setting up. I didn’t recognize them, so they must have been from USC.

At the bar, a girl with a red plastic
cup in each hand nearly crashed into me. She took a quick step back, but one of
the drinks slipped from her grasp. I managed to catch it without even a spill.
Not bad, if I said so myself.

“Wow, great save,” she said, taking
the drink from me. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Sorry I almost knocked
you over.”

“Totally my fault.” She looked me up
and down, checking out the ink on my arms. “Hey, you look familiar.”

The girl was hot, with bleached hair
and a low-cut, black dress showing off a small butterfly tattoo between her
breasts. Definitely my type. I didn’t want to get too excited, but damn, it had
been way too long since I’d gotten laid. Or gone out with anyone. Tonight might
finally be my lucky night.

“Do you go to UCLA?” I asked. I didn’t
recognize her, but it was a pretty safe bet most people at the show either went
to my school or to our rival. “Maybe we have a class together.”

“I do.” She cocked her head and
studied me again. “Are you in Villain Complex?”

A fan of the band? This was getting
better and better. “Yeah. I play keyboard.”

“That’s how I know you!” She laughed
a little, and her chest bounced, making it look like the butterfly was flapping
its wings. Must not stare, must not
stare. “I saw you play last week at that parking lot show. You guys were amazing!
I went home and bought all your songs from your website.”

“Thanks.” I offered her my hand and
smiled. “My name’s Kyle, by the way.”

She juggled the drinks into one hand
and slipped the other into mine. “Tiffany.”

She liked our band, she seemed
interested in me, but now what? I couldn’t offer to buy her a drink since she
had two already. Why did she have two? Was she going to meet someone? No, she was
giving off that single vibe so probably here with a friend. I needed to make a
move but had to keep it cool, too. Think,
think, think. Man, I sucked at this pick-up-line stuff. Oh, I could ask her
about her major. That was always a pretty safe bet.

Before I got the chance, she asked, “So
I guess you know Jared Cross?”

And just like that, any hope I had of
getting some action suffered a swift and violent death. Womp womp. “Yeah. He’s my brother.”

“Really?” She glanced around, like
she hoped Jared would pop out from behind me. I could tell the second she saw
him because her breath got fluttery and her cheeks turned pink. What was he
doing? Serenading random strangers with his shirt off? It wouldn’t be the first
time.

I turned and spotted him leaning against
the wall, talking to our drummer, Hector. Not half-naked, thank god, but even fully
clothed Jared had this crazy effect on women. As if to prove my point, he
looked over and gave us that lazy smile that girls could never resist. And then,
to top it off, he winked.

I hated it when he winked.

I rolled my eyes and turned back to
Tiffany, but she was a goner already. She made a little sound like a gasp, and
her eyes flitted back to me. “Could you introduce me?”

I should have seen this coming. Why
would I think she would ever be interested in me when my stupid brother was only
feet away? I didn’t get it. We shared a lot of the same DNA, but I must have
been missing the “come-hither” gene. Even though Jared looked like a toned-down
version of me—fewer tattoos, natural hair color, and no piercings—girls somehow
had this radar that honed in on him. It’s like as soon as they heard him sing they
decided, Yes, this guy is trouble. I must
go after him. And they all thought they could fix him, like they’d be the
one girl who could make him settle down and change his ways.

Keep dreaming, ladies. I guaranteed that tomorrow morning I’d be patting Tiffany—or some other
girl—on the back as I walked her to her car and wished her a nice life. Jared
didn’t do relationships, and no girl was going to “fix” him because he wasn’t
broken. He just liked women. Lots of women. All the time.